


Funsize

by mishka_mooshka



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Author Is Sleep Deprived, Babies, Crack, Humor, Lots of Babies, The Author Regrets Nothing, because england's awesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-05-02 19:11:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5260343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mishka_mooshka/pseuds/mishka_mooshka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>America enters a room that completely changes his perception of the world. One-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Funsize

**Author's Note:**

> This work was a result of an utterly random dream.

Alfred entered the room, braced for the usual raucous arguments that caused temporary deafness.

But his ears were greeted by an entirely different form of assault. High-pitched wails and howls, multiplied by five, by ten, by twenty.

There were babies. Everywhere. Littered all throughout the conference hall. Some of them were crying, many were laughing. Some were sucking on fingers, some on toes. Some were staring, eyes glittering, at the chandelier hanging above, but many, _many_ of the creepy little baby eyes were watching Alfred. Carefully, quietly watching.

Hands numb with shock, Alfred dropped—one after the other—the ten Big Macs he picked up on the way to the meeting.

" _What the hell_?!"

The hall went quiet for a tenth of a second, as the rest of the creepy little baby eyes focused on him, then—he could have sworn he saw the twenty little lower lips quiver—like a strong bomb detonating in a small, secluded space, they all burst into simultaneous tears.

And since they  _were_ in a small, secluded space, the chorus of crying reverberated around the room like a church choir on crack.

But then the little monsters began moving towards him—all at once—and even with the superhuman strength that being the country of America granted him, there were just too many of them. He was overpowered and brought down.

One of them, a rather large baby with silvery hair and astonishingly purple eyes, began tugging on the sensitive cowlick sticking out of Alfred's messy hair, making him writhe and squirm.

Looking at that tiny evil being, it was then that Alfred realized who the babies were.

He was the only country there, which was odd. Wait, no. Rephrase: he was the only  _adult_ country there. Everyone else somehow managed to turn themselves into the little gremlin things.

The one tugging at his Nantucket was Russia. A little farther down, drooling all over a dumpling, was a very small baby with long black hair and curiously golden eyes. Definitely China. Mini-France could be seen, wavy blonde hair and light violet eyes and all, fixated on the vase of roses on the table. There was baby Germany looking pissed with being surrounded by all the other babies. The little Italys were fighting over a dazed-looking small Spain. Belarus in miniature began crawling her way towards tiny Ivan, who in turn, started howling and trying frantically to get as far away as possible from her. There were the tiny Baltics; mini Nordics; little Prussia harassing a little Austria, who in turn was being defended by a fierce little Hungary; small Egypt huddled in a corner; baby Greece sleeping, surrounded by cats, being bothered by a baby Turkey; and more.

Though his head was spinning as the number of babies went nowhere but up, Alfred couldn't shake off the nagging feeling that someone was missing. And he was thinking hard…Japan? No, Japan's here. He's over there…and that was when he spotted little Japan…holding a goddamn katana.

Alfred bolted up, startling most of the little creatures, and snatched the katana away from the baby with the black hair and dark-brown eyes—eyes that were currently being obscured by fat tears.

"Uh-uh," Alfred explained, wagging a finger in the child's face. "Ouchie. Big ouchie. You'll go like this," he made a pretend motion with the katana, passing it over his throat, then stuck his tongue out and pretended to be dead.

The room was silent. Then there was a giggle somewhere, and the rest of the babies followed suit. Soon the room was filled with happy giggles and other whale-like sounds.

He did the thing with the katana over and over again, until the poor things were positively howling with laughter. Then he began lifting them one by one, throwing them into the air and catching them.

"Babies aren't so bad…you're not bad, aren't you?" he cooed as he put miniature Canada down.

But it was when he picked up little France that reality hit him like a kick in the balls. A stench like no other—his nose would have shriveled up and withered away if it could have—murdered his ability to smell.

Upon seeing Alfred's look of complete and utter revulsion, baby France laughed. But a different sound simultaneously issued from somewhere that was not his mouth. "Poopie," he gurgled.

Alfred felt as though he would rather get trampled over by a horde of angry elephants than check the horrors that were stewing within the diaper. But he knew he had to do it, or else the crying would start up again.

And when the source of the hell-sent smell was finally exposed, he damn nearly fainted. Imagine the scent of a gallon's worth of rotten milk, plus a bucket of spoiled fish, combined with whatever's in a sewer. Mix them together and multiply the resulting stench by ten. A formula that makes for a brown goo that was death itself.

Alfred's gag reflex was acting up, and he couldn't hold back the retching noises that made the other babies laugh. He tried his best to clean up mini France, ridding him as much as possible of any traces of the devil's anesthesia.

He found a stack of diapers on the corner of the room, making Alfred wonder who on earth was responsible for all of this. He vowed to give whoever it was hell to pay if he finds out.

But right after he put the fresh diaper on the now-spotless baby, a whole new wave of Satan's breath started wafting from all the other diapers, intensifying the smell a hundred times over.

Alfred passed out cold.

…

"AMERICAAA!" Germany screamed, jolting Alfred awake. "The world's strongest superpower shouldn't be sleeping on meetings like this!"

"Wha—?" he replied groggily. Then his eyes flew open, and his head swiveled around, looking at all the other nations—grown and completely back to normal—staring at him.

"Wait…you're adults…" he never thought he'd ever live to see the day when he would be happy to see all those familiar faces looking at him like he was crazy.

" _Excusez moi_?" inquired France indignantly.

"Nothing. It's nothing." Alfred tried to say nonchalantly, but the almost-derisive joy burning in his eyes was apparent.

China sighed. " _Aiyaa_ , he's just being stupid again. Can we just continue? I want to go home already."

"Okay, okay." replied Germany, resuming his drone about the importance of encouraging the use of birth control in their countries, because populations were spiraling into unprecedented numbers.

Alfred nodded enthusiastically. The world had too many dirty, deadly, nose-murdering diapers already. It certainly didn't need any more.

But the dream felt so real…it unnerved him…

Arthur suddenly nudged Alfred's arm, snapping him out of a nightmarish trance that involved poopy diapers suddenly coming to life and chasing him.

"America?" he whispered.

"Hmm?" Alfred replied, quivering slightly.

England was blushing. "I've been thinking lately about your proposal…"

"What proposal, Hun?" America asked curiously.

"The one you've been bugging me so much about…"

"Uhh…which one?"

Arthur took Alfred's hand and squeezed it tenderly. "We've been together for a long time, so…I agree with you." He said lovingly. "I think it's time we adopt a ba—"

Each syllable clanged inside Alfred's head like pots and pans crashing down an endless flight of stairs. His fight-or-flight response activated, and his body chose the easier of the two choices: he fled. Bolted out the door at a record-breaking hundred miles per hour, screaming his lungs into oblivion, all before Arthur could even finish his sentence.

The conference hall was silent. Then everyone burst into simultaneous laughter, giving Arthur thumbs up and claps on the back.

"Thanks for the help, chaps." Arthur said jovially. "I think that experience will shut him up for another century or so."

He smiled jubilantly, pretending as though nothing ever happened, while he quietly slipped the Britannia wand back into his pocket.


End file.
